


A Night for Celebration

by Fabled_heroine



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 18:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15978242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabled_heroine/pseuds/Fabled_heroine
Summary: At the after party for the Inquisitor's coronation, a bard and an ex-Templar meet. Cuteness ensues.A little intro to one of my OCs, Fleur. Breaking in my writing muscles and exploring pairings.





	A Night for Celebration

In Skyhold's courtyard, the air was filled with music and good spirits. Things had calmed down in the three weeks since the Inquisition's arrival to the fortress. Tonight, the whole castle rose up in celebration of the Inquisitor's coronation. There was feasting and singing and dancing and revelry, much needed since the escape from Haven. Fleur stood in the courtyard, plucking a jaunty tune on her lute, singing merrily.

Merrily we sailed along  
Though the waves were plenty strong  
Down the twisting river Rhine  
Following a song  
Legend's faded storyline  
Tried to warn us all  
Oh, they called her "Loreley"  
Careful or you'll fall.

Soldiers and scouts alike pranced to and fro, in what some people might consider a dance. Her fellow bards stood behind her, one playing the drums and another the flute. The crowd cheered and sang along where they could. There was little else that Fleur loved more than this; entertaining people with music. As she sang, a man sitting at a table near the front caught her attention. He had short floppy hair, pitch black like her own. He had tattoos swirling down a distinctive nose and over his strong chin. And his eyes, Maker his eyes. They were probably the brightest blue she had ever seen, and they were looking directly at her. Fleur blushed under his attention as she brought the song to an end.

The besotted dancers ceased their movements to clap and cheer loudly and Fleur gave a curtsy, smiling brightly. Returning her attention to the man, she saw that he rose to clap as well, but his eyes remained on her.

"Fleur." Maryden called, placing a hand on her shoulder, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. "I am ready now. Go take a break."

She was relieved, she had been singing for near two hours and her throat was dry as the desert. Fleur smiled at Maryden, placing her lute on the ground and walking away in search of a drink. Somehow, she managed to find a glass of red wine, taking an ungraceful gulp. 'Ugh, Antivan. Nothing like they make it back home.' She thought, her nose scrunched up in disgust. But still, it was better than Fereldan ale. Maryden said something she couldn't hear, but as she heard the band wind up the beginning of the song, she recognized it immediately. The Starkhaven Reel, one of her favorites.

"Would you care to dance, my lady?" a pleasant brogue came from behind her. Fleur turned to find that it was the man that had been looking at her. He was bowed at the waist, looking up at her with those cerulean eyes, his left hand held out. This close, she could see that his face was scarred, but she noted it did not detract from his charm at all.

Fleur smiled shyly, placing her hand in his own, finding it firm and rough. "I would love to, ser."

He returned the smile, leading her wordlessly to the open area in front of the makeshift stage she had just left. Quickly, he released her and they joined their respective lines, bowing to each other. As the reel began, they pranced towards each other, swinging one another around by their right elbows, returning to their places before doing the same with their left. As the lead couple, they clasped hands and skipped down the aisle of dancers, him holding her close. He was quite agile for a man in armor and Fleur was happy for a partner that could keep up with her.

The dance continued until all five couples had their turn. As the song came to a close, Fleur found a massive smile on her face, a laugh slipping from her lips easily as she and her partner gave one final bow. She stood, straightening her blue gown, her chest heaving from the exertion. The man moved close, pulling her into him as a new song began, one with no specific dance other than to simply hop and twirl around. He was a strong leader and that let Fleur step back and take another look at him. His handsome face was twisted into a wry smile, his eyes looking at her intensely. He was a full head and a half taller than she, her eyes level with his chest, and he smelled rain and pine trees. 

Fleur lost track of how long they danced for. Maybe it was minutes, maybe it was hours. But she was intoxicated. Not by wine, but by him. When they finally finished, breathless and giggling, he pulled her away from the crowd, up the stairs to the ramparts. The air was clearer up there and most certainly quieter. He released her, moving to lean against a nearby pillar. Fleur wanted to speak, but was at a loss for words, extraordinarily out of character for her. Luckily, he spoke first.

"So, my lady. Might I know your name?" He asked, still wearing that same grin, the one that made her heart leap.

She cleared her throat, hoping her voice would not shake as she felt is might. "I am Fleur, good ser. And you are?"

He chuckled at her accent. "Orlesian, of course." He put his hands up in surrender at her fierce glare. "I meant no offense, Lady Fleur. I am Knight-Captain Rylen." He said as he bowed, grasping her hand and planting a kiss on her knuckles.

"Rylen." She smiled. "You do dance divinely, Captain."

He laughed. "You flatter me. I am no Orlesian bard. Might I ask what brought you to the Inquisition?"

Fleur moved to lean next to him, finding she wanted to be near him. "I was with my father in Rivain these last few years. I would have remained had I not heard of all that happened at the Conclave."

"I am glad you heard of it then." Rylen replied, moving closer to her still. "What would the Inquisition do without your lovely music to lift our spirits?"

She frowned. "I'm not just a minstrel. I am a capable mage and a fighter!" 

His dark eyebrows raised. "A mage? Maker above, you surprise me." He stood in front of her, no more than a foot away. "Would it alarm you to know that I am a Templar?"

Somehow, it did not alarm her, although perhaps it should. "That depends, are you going to smite me?" Fleur sassed, sticking a hip out in defiance. Her breath hitched at his proximity.

"That depends as well." Rylen moved his face inches from hers, and she could feel his breath on her skin. "Do you want me to?"

Fleur leaned in, closing the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. His lips were firm and smooth, plumper than any man's lips had a right to be. After a moment, she pulled away, looking up into his piercing eyes, which were wide in shock.

"You kissed me." He said simply.

She giggled. "Was I not supposed to?" She traced a finger down his jawline, the stubble scratching against her skin. 

Rylen shook his head and for a moment, and Fleur worried that she had been too forward. "I'm the one that's supposed to kiss you! See here!" He exclaimed, crushing his mouth to hers once again.

She gasped in surprised and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips, engaging in a dance with her own. Rylen pressed her against the wall, his hands on her hips and hers around his neck. His kiss left her breathless, desperate for more. And he provided willingly. Fleur lost all sense of time on those ramparts, between Rylen and the stone wall. But all too soon, he broke away, giving her that damned smirk with those kiss-swollen lips.

But it didn't feel like an end. It felt like a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> The song in the story is "Loreley" by Blackmore's Night.


End file.
